My Christmas Eve
by writerchic16
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Monica is assigned to a lonely woman who’s taking out her aggression over her divorce in an unusual way. Based on the song “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood


**My Christmas Eve**

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Monica is assigned to a lonely woman who's taking out her aggression over her divorce in an unusual way. Based on the song "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood

A/N: You'd think that during December, a holiday song would inspire me to write a holiday story. But of course not, it had to be the excellent song "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood. Oh well.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

* * *

Driving around a near-deserted parking lot, Monica had to wonder what she was doing there. As she sat in Tess'…well, _her_ car now…she couldn't help but feel like she was missing out. Tomorrow was the biggest holiday of the year – Christmas. Needless to say, all the angels were in Heaven preparing. All the angels, it seemed, except her. 

Monica smiled a little as she imagined the scene. Gloria and the choir would be warming up, Tess leading the practice. And Andrew would be assisting with decorations. As she wasn't known for her singing ability – or lack thereof – she usually wound up helping Andrew.

A loud _honk_ blasted through the silence. An angry driver flew out of the parking lot, giving her a glare as he passed. Monica winced and lowered her eyes. She'd been so busy day dreaming, she hadn't noticed that she was partially blocking the parking lot entrance. Oh, if Tess had seen her right then…

Shaking her head, Monica made a bigger effort to keep her mind on her assignment…whoever that was. While she was disappointed that she wasn't with her friends, she had to stop feeling sorry for herself. After all, she was on her way to meet an assignment – who was in such bad shape on Christmas Eve that he or she needed help from an angel.

"Father," she whispered in prayer, bringing her car around as she continued to drive through the parking lot. "Please give me the ability to help whichever of your children you have sent me to on this holiest of nights. Thank you, Amen."

As if in response, the silence was once again broken by a loud sound. It wasn't a horn, though. It was the sound of glass breaking.

Becoming worried, she parked the car and hurried toward the sound. Monica stood and watched for a moment, not quite believing what she was seeing.

It was a woman who looked no older than thirty, wearing boots, jeans, and an old brown winter coat. Her black hair tied back in a pony-tail, the woman wiped a loose strand of hair out of her cold gray eyes. Then she tightened her grip on a metal baseball bat and aimed for the red, flashy sports car's remaining headlight next to her.

"Wait, don't!" Monica shouted, running toward the woman who had to be her assignment.

The woman hesitated for only a second, barely glancing at the shocked angel. "Don't worry. It's my ex-husband's car."

Then she held up the bat again.

"And that gives you the right to destroy it?" Monica pressed, inching closer to the woman. The angel was a little hesitant, though. The woman looked quite threatening with that bat over her shoulder.

That got the woman to lower the bat and put one hand on her hip. "Who are you, a priest? A little revenge never hurt anybody."

"But it never helped anybody either," Monica replied. Overcoming her initial fear, she went over to the woman's side. "Please, just put the bat down."

It looked like Monica's pleas were helping somewhat as the woman's eyes softened. But when Monica reached for the bat, the woman stepped back. The fury returning to her eyes for a brief second, the woman swung with all her strength and took out the other headlight.

Monica gasped, wondering what she could say that would get the woman to stop. But instead of destroying the car further, the woman's shoulders slumped. With a dejected shrug she threw the bat into the shrubs surrounding the lot.

"Okay, I'm done," she admitted. "I needed to get that last one out of me."

Laughing with relief, Monica pointed out, "And probably cost your ex-husband a small fortune."

"Who cares? That jerk deserves to pay," the woman snapped. Overcome with exhaustion, she slid down against the car, pulling up her legs and putting her head in her hands. "I mean, he didn't even bother putting on his car alarm."

Monica had also noticed that the car remained silent. "Well, maybe he was distracted."

"Yeah. Probably by a platinum blonde Barbie-wannabe," the woman retorted. "That was his type."

As Monica sank to the ground next to her, she began to receive information about the woman from the Father. Her name was Emma Romero. At twenty-five-years old, she was going through her first divorce. Her ex-husband was an attractive, successful musician…who cheated on her with any young woman who would have him. "He's not worth this, you know," Monica said. "All this anger, this frustration…you're better off using your energy for something more productive than vandalism."

"I know. I _know_," Emma groaned, leaning her head back against the car. "This isn't me, I swear. I just….snapped. Man, my sister isn't going to believe me when I tell her this. I'm going to have to bring her the mangled headlight as proof."

Shaking her head, Monica glanced at the building at the head of the parking lot. The run-down bar was decorated with garish red and green Christmas lights. A cardboard cut-out of Santa Claus offering incoming customers a beer stood out front. _Sometimes I really wonder what humans are thinking when they create things like that_, Monica thought. 'He's in there?"

"Yeah. Probably already wasted. If he isn't, you can bet whatever Barbie he has on his arm is," Emma said with a disgusted look at the bar.

Monica frowned with sympathy. "What happened?"

Turning back to look at the angel, Emma asked, "What do you mean – tonight, or between me and him?"

"Both."

Letting out a long sigh, Emma began, "We were young and stupid. I met him in Senior year of college at a frat party and thought he was the cool, dangerous, fun type. While that's not me at all, I was looking for something new…and I ended up with him. Sure, I'd heard rumors. Every girl in the sorority had…well, you get the idea.

"But that didn't matter to me. He promised to settle down once we were married. And he did…for a while. Then I saw a woman's phone number in his suitcase. It was on a scrawny piece of paper and the number looked like it'd been scrawled on by a drunken hand. It couldn't mean anything else."

Monica felt a rare flash of anger at whoever Emma's husband was. The way some people could totally disregard others' feelings really bothered her sometimes. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Emma said with a bitter laugh. "I'm not one for confrontation. I pushed it to the back of my mind, always hoping that it was a phase and he would come to his senses. But instead, I ended up coming to _my_ senses. Caught him on a date with another woman at some restaurant. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. It was a long, messy process but…we just divorced a month ago. We had some good times, but…I'm glad it's over."

"I'm so sorry," Monica replied, not sure what else she could say.

Emma shrugged. "Why are you sorry? You're not the one who was stupid enough to stay with a cheating husband for three years."

"You weren't stupid. You were in love," Monica said.

Raising an eyebrow, Emma replied, "I don't know about that. Yeah, I guess at first I was. After that…I guess I just didn't want to get divorce. I'm one of the few people left who still believe in the sanctity of holy matrimony. Or was, anyway."

"Don't give up," Monica pleaded. "There are still decent men out there. Don't let a cheating husband get to you. I know for a fact that you'll find love again."

Emma smirked. "And how would you know that?"

"You'd be surprised," Monica replied with a chuckle. Then she pulled herself up and held out her hand to Emma. "Now, come on. No use spending Christmas Eve slumped up against the side of a car."

Hesitating, Emma nodded and took Monica's hand. As she got up she remarked, "If you hadn't come, I'd probably still be sitting there. Not like I have anywhere else to go."

"On Christmas Eve?"

Emma shrugged as she dusted some old snow off her jeans. "My Mom and Dad are on a cruise. And my sister, her husband and her three kids were going to fly in, but their flight was delayed because of a snowstorm this morning. I'm on my own. There's no way they'll get another flight until after Christmas day."

"So you decided to ruin your ex's car?" Monica asked.

"There was nothing better to do," Emma joked, but grew serious when Monica narrowed her eyes. "Okay – I found a pair of woman's underwear in the back of the closet. And they definitely weren't mine. I realized he actually had her at _our_ _house_ and…something inside me snapped. All those feelings of insecurity and neglect came back and…before I knew it, I was reaching for the bat he'd left behind when I kicked him out."

Glancing at the car again, Monica asked, "Just out of curiosity, what else were you going to do to it?"

Emma thought about that for a second. "I don't know what I would've done. Probably put a few more dents in with a bat, maybe keyed the side…he left the door open, so I could've gone for the leather seats. Such a careless…well, name calling never solves anything."

"You're okay now though, right?" Monica asked, worried that Emma might resume her activities once the angel left.

Nodding, Emma answered, "Yeah, I'm okay. I think I just needed someone to talk me down. Thanks…oh, I don't even know your name. I'm sorry, I don't usually tell my life story to complete strangers."

"It's Monica, and don't worry about it," Monica laughed.

Emma looked down, now embarrassed. "No, I'm really sorry. You shouldn't have had to…"

"It's alright," Monica insisted. "You're hurting right now, and it seems that the only way to heal is revenge. But, I promise that revenge is never the answer. The way to heal is through God. Pray for the strength to handle your emotions in a positive way, and He will carry you through."

Staring at the angel with uncertainty, Emma asked, "You really think that will work?"

"I know it will," Monica assured her with a smile. "Now, check your phone messages. And…Merry Christmas, Emma."

Confused, Emma glanced down as she took her phone out of her pocket. "Check my messages? Hey, I never told you my…"

She trailed off as she looked up. Monica was gone.

Stunned, Emma opened her phone with shaking hands. She listened as the voicemail message played.

"_Hey Em, it's Liz – once again, _really_ sorry that we couldn't make it up there this morning. But the weirdest thing just happened. Nick was checking the flight on the website, and five seats opened up! On a flight leaving in an hour! We should be coming into the airport by eleven. Love ya, Em, and see you soon!"_

Emma closed her phone in happy shock. Glancing up, she watched as a white dove flew across the sky. Smiling to herself, she whispered, "Merry Christmas to you too, Monica."

* * *

_And he don't know..._

_That I dug my keys into the side_

_Of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive_

_Carved my name into his leather seats_

_I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights_

_Slashed a hole in all four tires_

_Maybe next time_

_He'll think before he cheats_


End file.
